Night Flying
by chocolatecheesecakes
Summary: In the end, you always had to come back to your friends.


**Hey! So this was a fic to cover several different challenges over at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Challenges and Assignments).**

 **The Treasure Hunt - I had the prompt of the pairing Viktor/Hermione**

 **Pinata Challenge - features Hermione as a main character**

 **And the Song Challenge - I had the lyric "And I'm possessive, it isn't nice" from the song Lay All Your Love On Me by ABBA (I love me some ABBA).**

 **Word count: 1141**

It wasn't a nice feeling, being five storeys up into the air, with nothing but a few pieces of wood standing between you and sticky end. Hermione was a nervous flyer by nature, and she didn't want to be here, floating in the middle of nowhere.

She clutched tight to Viktor, and closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of the cool fresh night air. Hermione couldn't honestly remember why she'd agreed to going on a midnight flight with the Bulgarian Seeker (the last time she'd sat on a broom she was shaking so much she could barely walk afterwards), but all in all, it wasn't all that bad.

All things considered, it had turned out rather well. Hermione wasn't panicking, and Victor hadn't tried out a Wronski Feint with her as of yet. She could feel her heart beating faster and faster, although whether it was from her less than subtle crush or from the height, she didn't know.

Viktor said something to her, but it was lost in the wind. Hermione replied with a smile, leaning out of her desperate clutch as they both slowly drifted back towards the ground. This was the kind of thing that an eight year old her would have dreamed about - maybe without the magic.

A cute boy, a cloudless December night, and an overwhelming sense of contentment. That was what she had been brought up to want in a relationship, for as long as she could remember. But she still exhaled a sigh of relief the second that her feet touched the ground again. Even though the earth was spinning around at a million miles an hour, all Hermione could feel was good, solid ground.

"Did you like that?" Viktor asked her, accent thick, tripping over his English words a little, as he clambered off the broom himself. Hermione smiled at him, again, and nodded vigourously.

"Yes, yes I did," she said, a little wryly, choosing not to point out that she hated heights and had spent most of the time with her head in his back. "But I'd better be getting back to the Castle… I don't want Filch to catch me out at this time."

She dusted the bottom of her hoodie off, shoving her hands into the deep pockets, and looked across at her companion, who was staring at her with an odd expression on his face. "Are you okay?" she asked, slightly concerned. "You aren't too cold, are you?"

Of course he wasn't too cold, Hermione chastised herself. He went to school in Scandinavia, he probably thought English winters were in the realms of Spanish summers for their famed balminess.

"I'm fine," Viktor replied, the same, curious look in his eyes. "Just… I do not like that Ron. Ron that you are friends with."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Ron?" she queried. What had Ron done to Viktor that Viktor didn't like? "He's harmless, really. He's probably just a bit jealous, honestly." She didn't elaborate any more on that, from fear that her face might flush up just a little too well.

"Just…" Viktor stalled, and reached out towards Hermione, slipping his free hand into her pocket and taking her own. She blushed deeply, looking away from him again. Was this what crushes were like? Finally, she understood what Ginny felt for Harry.

"Herm-o-ninny," he still had trouble saying her name. Hermione was too polite to correct him, in this particular moment. She just blushed, and smiled. "You are mine?"

Oh. Hermione blinked, hardly daring to think about what Viktor had just said. Was he going to ask her to date him? No, no, she couldn't think of that. If she thought about it too much then it wouldn't happen. She just had to breathe…

"I-I mean…" she stammered. "Not really…" What else was she going to say?

Viktor looked a little downcast at this, but said something again before Hermione could interject, or go back on her words. "I do not like Ron," he repeated, looking away, over towards the Forbidden Forest. "If… If you be mine," he suddenly looked back at the bushy haired Gryffindor again. "You not like Ron… too?"

"No," Hermione replied instantly, brow furrowing. "No, that's not how it works, Viktor. That's… That's messed up."

She pulled her hand away from his, and crossed her arms, huffing. Maybe Ron was right, after all. Oh, twisted fate. Viktor did look quite upset, though, rather than angry, so maybe she was being a bit hasty.

"I am sorry, Herm-o-ninny," he immediately dropped her gaze again. "I can be… Not nice to people, when I like other people."

"I don't know what you expect of me!" Hermione sighed heavily, rolling her eyes. Was this what people thought of her? A pushover? A walkover? "I like you, Viktor," maybe a little more than just 'like', "But I like my friends, too. Including Ron."

"Not… You like me _more_?" Viktor said, hopefully. "I like Harry, I do not like Ron. Friends with Harry, not Ron?"

"NO!" Hermione almost yelled at him, eyes flashing. "Viktor just… Just stop. Please, stop. If you don't want to have me if I'm friends with Ron, I don't want to have you."

And with that, she turned around, hurrying up towards Hogwarts Castle, tears gathering in her eyes as she hurried away from the Bulgarian. This wasn't what she had been promised. This wasn't what she wanted. Her eight year old self didn't want this, and her fifteen year old self didn't want it either.

Was she never going to get lucky? Sometimes she wondered whether she let the snide jabs of her fellow Gryffindor girls get to her too much. Bushy hair, long teeth, bossy, teacher's pet… She was just playing to the stereotype that girls that didn't like themselves wouldn't get boys that liked them, just the way they were.

She looked behind her, at the Bulgarian, standing in the moonlight, watching her go. She thought he called out to her, but it was lost in the wind. His mouth opened silently, the glimmer of words met her ears, but nothing more. Was she being too hasty?

No. This was the right thing to do, she knew that. Her mother always taught her to listen to her head, and right now Hermione's head was telling her to be the bigger person, to walk away. Let him come to her, let him apologise.

Never let them see you cry. Hermione didn't look back again, her mind entirely fixed on her warm bed, and the prospect of talking to Ginny about everything that had transpired. Friends, warmth and food. Nothing beat that, not even the prospect of a fairytale romance.

In the end, you had to come back to your friends, the people that would always be there for you, when everything else was gone.


End file.
